


Steven Hawking Can't Explain You

by katherine_tag



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Explicit Consent, M/M, jarvis is way too invested in tony stark's love life, not really accidental bondage, see tag re jarvis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22545031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katherine_tag/pseuds/katherine_tag
Summary: Tony's gotten himself into a bit of a bind, and Steve's the only one home to do anything about it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 182





	Steven Hawking Can't Explain You

**Author's Note:**

> So a million years ago the AO3 tag of the day was "Accidental Bondage", and I was like, how could bondage ever be accidental? I can't think of *even one* scenario where - oh. OH. And then I remembered in The Avengers when Tony landed on the tower and started walking while robot arms took the suit off him. Yeah. That.
> 
> Many thanks to [autoschediastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic) for the beta and general cheerleading!

Tony jerked to a stop on the penthouse platform of the tower as his body tried to keep going but his feet, still in the boots of the Iron Man suit, were suddenly locked into place. His right foot was hovering a few inches off the ground, caught mid-stride, while his arms, hands still in the gauntlets, were awkwardly stretched out, the left above his head, the other straight out to the side. “Jarvis,” he said, “what the hell?”

“The mechanism seems to have malfunctioned, sir,” Jarvis said, as calm as ever. “I’m running a diagnostic now.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. He wriggled his fingers, but there was no give. He sighed. “Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir?”

“How long is this going to take?” It hadn’t been a difficult mission, but he was tired. He had been looking forward to a stiff drink and the jacuzzi in his suite, maybe some tinkering in his lab …

“In a preliminary search, I have not found anything in the code that would cause this particular malfunction,” Jarvis said. “I am running a deeper diagnostic now. I estimate this will take at least thirty minutes.”

“Half an hour?” Tony shook his head. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Jarvis said, not in the least bit contrite. “Perhaps it would be best if we recruited manual backup?”

“Fine,” Tony said. He closed his eyes. “Who’s here right now?”

“Ms. Potts, as you know, is in Malibu this week,” Jarvis said. “Agents Romanoff and Barton are still at SHIELD. Dr. Banner is away,” he continued, “and Captain Rogers is in his suite.”

“Great,” Tony said. Of course it had to be Steve. “Call Steve, would you? I think I can talk him through getting me out of this thing.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Tony opened his eyes and sighed deeply. He supposed that Steve was really his best option. Natasha would probably laugh and leave him there; Barton would laugh at him too, but would help him out eventually. The only problem was that he’d never live it down. Bruce would have been his first choice, but he often disappeared for days after a mission. “I knew I shouldn’t have been futzing around with this last night,” he muttered to himself, shifting his hips slightly. 

“Tony?” Steve called out. “Where … oh.” He trailed off as he turned the corner and saw Tony’s predicament.

“Yes, hi, hello,” Tony said. He pulled ineffectually at his arms again, unable to stop trying to extract himself from the gauntlets. “Little help here?”

Steve had a strange look on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Tony,” he said, and Tony could hear the strangled laughter in his voice, that bastard, “what happened?”

“I’m stuck, obviously,” Tony said.

Steve raised his eyebrows.

Tony grimaced. “Jarvis is running a diagnostic,” he said. “In the meantime, we thought it was best to get someone up here who had opposable thumbs. Guess you fit that description, huh, Cap?”

“All thumbs present and accounted for.” Steve held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “What do you need me to do?”

“Okay,” Tony said. “There’s a toolbox over there.” He jerked his chin in the vague direction of the couch. “You’re going to need that.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely curious, as he walked over to the couch and hefted the toolbox in one hand. He was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, but his hair wasn’t damp, which meant Jarvis had interrupted him before he’d had a chance to get in the shower. 

“Sorry to disturb your post-assemble routine, Cap,” Tony said. “I mean, normally I would call Pepper for these sorts of things, or Rhodey, but Pep’s in Malibu this week and Rhodey, well I don’t know where Rhodey is these days, probably off on some top secret mission with that suit I gave him out of the genuine goodness of my heart and anyway Pepper would probably kill me if she had to rescue me again from something mechanical after the last time, I mean it’s not the same as the arc reactor thing, but I think she has trauma or something she was really mad -”

“Right,” Steve said, and dropped the toolbox at Tony’s feet with a loud clang, effectively cutting him off. “Now what?”

Tony took a deep breath. “First things first,” he said. “You know what a socket wrench is?”

“Yes, Tony, I know what a socket wrench is,” Steve said, heavy with sarcasm, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re going to need that and a flathead screwdriver first,” Tony said, ignoring the urge to snap back with a truly impressive feat of will, if he did say so himself.

Steve knelt down and opened the toolbox, unfolding the drawers until he found the tools he was looking for. He twisted around and squinted at the boot currently holding Tony’s right leg off the floor. 

Tony’s breath caught. Steve Rogers, paragon of American virtue and in possession of a criminally hot body, was kneeling in front of him. If he looked up, Tony’s crotch would be right in Steve’s face. Now was not exactly the time to remember his inappropriate crush on Captain America, Tony reminded his libido. He could feel sweat prickling his lower back before his undershirt wicked the moisture away as he breathed out slowly. He could do this. It was just - he couldn’t _move_ and Steve was _right there_ , his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he poked the boot with the screwdriver. God, this was a dirty fantasy come to life, and just like that his heart rate kicked up a notch and he was half hard already.

“Shit,” Tony said, and immediately regretted it as Steve’s head came up automatically. 

The soft black pants he was wearing hid nothing, and Steve’s gaze stopped for a moment before he raised his eyes to Tony’s face. “Ah,” he said. “Adrenaline, huh? Don’t be embarrassed, Tony, it’s happened to all of us.”

“It’s not adrenaline,” Tony’s traitor mouth said before his brain could catch up. “Oh my god,” he moaned, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. “Jarvis, please tell me you can get me out of this right now so that I can dig myself a hole to die in.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jarvis said, not sounding sorry at all. “The diagnostic did not return anything out of the ordinary. I am currently running a deeper test of all functions to determine the source of the malfunction.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Tony.” His voice was quiet, and Tony knew it was just his imagination, but he could swear he could feel the hot caress of air.

He opened his eyes and looked down.

Steve was still looking at him. A tiny wrinkle had appeared between his eyebrows and Tony could see the tips of his ears and his cheeks were flushed pink. “What did you mean?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Tony said. “It was nothing at all, Cap, don’t worry your pretty little head over it. You know me, absolutely no brain to mouth filter at all. I remember this one time -”

“Tony,” Steve said again, more forcefully, and Tony shut his mouth with an audible click. Steve’s eyes never left Tony’s face. “Is that,” and the flush deepened, creeping down his neck, “ah, I mean, well … are you attracted to me?” he finished in a rush, still not looking away.

Oh shit, Tony was so screwed. He wanted nothing more than to see how far down that blush really went, to lick Steve’s neck where it met his collarbone, to set his teeth on Steve’s earlobe and feel him shiver. His cock hadn’t flagged at all, despite his embarrassment, and at Steve’s words it twitched. “Well,” he said, “this is not a conversation I expected to have with Captain America. But have you looked in a mirror lately?” He was still trying to distract Steve, to salvage the situation with some of his dignity intact.

Steve stood suddenly, right up in Tony’s space. The inside of his knee pressed into Steve’s thigh, and Tony could feel the heat radiating off Steve’s body, smell the mineral scent of his sweat. “I’m not Captain America right now,” Steve said. His lips twisted sardonically. “I’m just Steve Rogers.” He was still blushing, his eyes an intense blue.

“Okay.” Tony's gaze flickered between Steve’s mouth and his eyes. “Okay, Steve,” he said again. “Truth time. It’s about seventy percent you, thirty percent that I’m, ah … restrained.”

Steve exhaled sharply through his nose. “For me, it’s about a hundred percent you, a hundred percent that you’re restrained,” he said. His blush was fading and his smile was a little hesitant.

“Steve, that’s two hundred percent,” Tony said. Making a joke, yes, great. Even he, emotionally stunted Tony Stark, could see that Steve was nervous about admitting that he was attracted to men. Or maybe it was admitting that he had a thing for bondage.

“Yeah. No one’s ever accused me of being good at math.” Steve’s smile turned up a little at the corners. He was still holding the screwdriver, and he tapped it thoughtfully against Tony’s chest. “May I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tony said, before he could think better of it. 

And then he couldn’t think at all. Steve’s lips were soft but insistent, a little chapped on one side where he had caught a fist to the face earlier. Tony was intensely aware of all the places they were touching - his inner thigh, Steve’s hand hot against the side of his neck. Steve’s mouth tasted like the faint iron tang of blood overlaid with orange juice. Tony chased the taste, tipping his chin up and pressing his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve inhaled, a sharp breath through his nose, and then he crowded up against Tony, chest to chest, deepening the kiss. His hand was still soft on Tony’s neck, his thumb brushing against his jaw, but his other hand gripped Tony’s hip hard enough to bruise. Tony distantly registered the clatter of the screwdriver on the floor and jerked his hands in the gauntlets, forgetting he was trapped in his desire to touch Steve, feel his skin.

Steve growled into his mouth and then broke off the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “Okay?” he asked. His thumb slid over Tony’s cheek, calluses catching on the soft skin underneath his eye.

“I want to touch you,” Tony said, a little petulantly. He flexed his fingers.

Brushing his lips over Tony’s temple, Steve chuckled, a dark, quiet laugh Tony had never heard before. “You can’t,” he said. His lips drifted to Tony’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he said, “Must be hard for you. Can’t imagine the great Tony Stark doesn’t get his way very often.”

Tony tilted his head, offering up his neck as Steve’s tongue darted out to taste his skin. “I’ll show you hard,” he said, inanely, pushing his hips against Steve’s as much as he could, breath stuttering at the answering roll of Steve’s hips. He groaned outright when Steve bit at the tendon in his neck in response, tongue laving the sting away, sucking a bruise into his skin.

Steve worked his mouth along the line of Tony’s jaw, back to his lips. His kiss was more forceful this time, and Tony matched him, their tongues clashing, the sharp press of Steve’s teeth against his bottom lip setting off sparks behind his eyelids. Steve's hands slid down Tony’s back to grip his ass, pulling their hips flush. Tony finally tore his mouth away, panting for air.

“I want to suck you off,” Steve muttered into Tony’s mouth. One of his hands found the waistband of Tony’s pants and slipped inside, under his boxer briefs, smoothing over Tony’s flank.

“I can’t stop you,” Tony said. His hips jerked as Steve’s fingers slid over the crack of his ass, teasing.

Steve pulled back a bare inch so he could see Tony’s face. There was a flush of color high on his cheekbones and his eyes were an even more intense blue than usual, his pupils blown wide. He looked fucking edible and Tony’s mouth watered. He didn’t say anything, and Tony realized he was waiting for something.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony said, licking his lips, noting how Steve’s eyes darted down to his mouth and then back up, “I will let you put your mouth anywhere you damn well please, so long as you do it now and stop being such a fucking gentleman.”

Steve grinned, a full on _grin_ that made Tony think about really sappy things like sunrises and coming up for air after a long time underwater. It was devastating, is what it was. Steve’s smile was a weapon Tony had no defense against.

“All right,” Steve said, and dropped to his knees. He rucked up the hem of Tony’s shirt, dragging his lips teasingly across his belly, dipping his tongue briefly into Tony’s navel as his abs twitched. His hands were busy, too, skimming down Tony’s pants and then the waistband of his underwear just down enough so that it was snuggly pressed underneath his balls. His hand was hot and tight around the base of Tony’s erection, and Tony shivered at the warm caress of his breath, lips barely skimming the tip.

Tony looked down and immediately had to shut his eyes against the sight of Steve’s mouth stretching over the head of his cock. It was almost worse, though, not to see, to only be able to feel the slide of Steve’s tongue against the sensitive underside of the head, the barest sharp brush of his canines as he took Tony in further until his mouth met his fingers.

He then proceeded to give Tony one of the slowest, most thorough blow jobs he’d ever had in his entire life. Steve's eyes had slid shut at some point, the lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks. Tony had lost track of time by the end, lost himself in the hot hollow of Steve’s mouth, the slick slide of his tongue, the tight press of his mouth around the base of Tony’s cock as he swallowed him down.

A fine tremor started in his muscles, balancing on one leg, pulling in his wrists and shoulders. He flexed his bicep to take some of the pressure off his shoulder and swayed back, off balance. Steve's hands immediately slid up his thighs and gripped his hips, keeping him steady, his fingers hard points of pressure that only wound Tony up further. He leaned into Steve's hold, wishing that his hands were free so he could bury his fingers in Steve's hair, wishing his wrists were bound with rope so he could feel the fine burn of it against his skin. He dimly realized he was begging, babbling, a filthy litany of prayers spilling out of his mouth unbidden. 

The tips of Steve’s ears were pink and his cheeks were flushed. He pulled back just enough to open his eyes and look at Tony’s face, tongue curling around the head of his cock. The moment their eyes met, Tony came, surprised and silenced, finally, by the tidal wave of his orgasm crashing over him. His whole body sagged as his knees wobbled, held up for a brief second only by the remnants of his suit. His left shoulder twinged.

Steve tucked his still sensitive cock back into his boxer briefs and kissed his stomach before standing up and wrapping his arms around Tony, holding him up until he caught his breath.

“Steve.” His voice was rough. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve.”

“Yes, Tony?” Steve said. His breathing was normal, but Tony could see the rapid fluttering of the pulse in his neck, feel the hard press of Steve’s erection against his hip. He was grinning again, and it was like looking into the sun.

Tony blinked the sunspots away. “Steve, god, if you don’t get me out of these things and fuck me right now I think I actually might cry.”

Steve laughed and opened his mouth to say something, but Jarvis interrupted with a polite cough.

“Pardon me, sir, Captain Rogers,” he said. “But I have completed my diagnostic and I believe I have restored functionality.”

Tony felt relief bubble up inside him like dry champagne, slightly bitter and effervescent. “Finally,” he said. “Took you long enough, J.”

Steve let go of him and stepped back, kicking the toolbox out of the way. Tony couldn’t decipher the look on his face as the mechanism whirred back to life. He sighed in relief as his foot finally touched the ground.

“I believe, sir, that it took me just long enough,” Jarvis said.

“Huh,” Steve said. He was frowning.

Tony shook the pins and needles out of his left hand and rolled his shoulders as the last of the suit disappeared silently into the floor of the platform. “Let’s never have that happen again,” he said, already half down the rabbit hole of what exactly had gone wrong with his code. “J, make a note -”

“Sir,” Jarvis said repressively, just as Steve said, “Well, I should probably go.” He was looking down, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

Tony’s attention snapped back to the present. “Steve, wait, no, sorry.” He moved to stand in front of Steve, close enough he could see Steve’s mouth was still red. 

Steve’s eyes flicked to Tony’s face and then away again. His expression was strange, shuttered. It felt a bit like the sun had gone out.

“I didn’t mean this,” Tony said, gesturing between the two of them. He took a deep breath and plunged in, feet first without looking, like always. “I’d very much like that to happen again. Preferably in a bedroom with less suit and more skin.” 

Steve still wasn’t looking at him, and his fingers had stilled on his shirt. Tony still couldn’t decipher his expression.

“Unless,” Tony said, resisting the urge to touch Steve’s hand, “that was just a, a, a thing that happened and not like, a _thing_ that happened, and you just want to go back to your room and take a shower and pretend that _mmmph_ -”

Steve kissed him fiercely, his hands framing Tony’s face. “Tony,” he said when they broke apart, “You talk _so much_.” His lips were twitching at the corners and he raised an eyebrow, wordlessly inviting Tony in on the joke.

“Well, yes, I maybe have heard that from one or three - really, no more than five! - people. Honestly, it’s such a small sample size you can’t draw any sort of valid conclusion from the data. I can’t -” Tony stopped abruptly, struck dumb by the soft, unmistakably fond look on Steve’s face.

Curling his arms around Tony’s waist, Steve said, his voice low in Tony’s ear, “Tony, let me take you to bed.”

“Was I not clear when I told you I would cry if you didn’t fuck me?” Tony asked after he had gotten his brain back online. “Don’t think I won’t. I might even beg if you ask nicely. Although that would be difficult if you want me to stop talking. I suppose I could. Stop talking. Anything is possible, right? I’m sure I could figure it out. I am a genius after all.”

Steve laughed, that low chuckle that did interesting things to Tony’s insides. “I like it,” he said. He dropped his hands to the backs of Tony’s thighs, bending his knees and lifting him off the ground. 

Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s hips and his arms around Steve’s neck as Steve started walking, carrying him unerringly toward the bedroom. “Good,” he said. “Because I actually don’t think I could stop talking, even if my life depended on it. In fact, my life _has_ actually depended on it, and even then, well, let’s just say things didn't go my way.”

“Challenge accepted,” Steve said. 

“Wait, what?” Tony said. He leaned back a little to look at Steve’s face. “No challenge! I never issued a challenge.”

Steve shouldered open the door and grinned, dumping Tony unceremoniously on the bed. “Oh, I think you did,” he said. “I’d love to see what it takes to make Tony Stark at a loss for words.” He crawled up the bed toward Tony, bracketing him with his arms and straddling his hips. “Wanna find out?”

Tony reached up, pulling Steve down until he was pressing Tony into the mattress, hot and heavy and perfect. He waited until Steve was looking at him, then slowly, deliberately, nodded once.

“Good,” Steve said, and kissed him until he forgot how to say his own name, let alone anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Da Vinci by Weezer


End file.
